A Nazi Thanksgiving
My worst Thanksgiving memory
Morning sunlight filtered through the trees as I looked around my house, surveying my night’s work, satisfied that we were almost ready to welcome our Thanksgiving dinner guests.
Arriving home from work at 7 pm the evening before, I fed our six outdoor dogs and four indoor cats, then began the Thanksgiving dinner preparations.
Due to my working the previous two weekends, the house was in dire need of cleaning. While my husband Wayne watched two movies on VHS tapes, I straighten, cleaned, and arranged.
The start of a typical Thanksgiving.
I picked up the living and dining rooms; washed Wayne’s dinner dishes; dusted furniture, shelves, and everything on them; vacuumed and mopped floors; scrubbed every surface in the bathroom and kitchen; washed doormats, the sofa cover, and kitchen towels; swept the front and back porches; cleaned and arranged porch furniture; and, extracted the extra table from one of Wayne’s several sheds, washed it thoroughly, and placed it in the center of our small living room.
Annoyed that the table blocked the television, Wayne said good-night and went to bed. I pulled chairs from the two extra bedrooms and placed them around the small table. Then, the cooking started.
